Wednesday's Child
by Sirius7
Summary: What if something more happened after Horn of Plenty... and then everything fell apart?
1. Prologue

Wednesday's Child:

An _Airwolf_ fic

Author: Sirius

Rating: T+/M

Disclaimer: All recognizable _Airwolf _characters belong to Belisarius; I'm just letting them out to play for a little while. I'll return them after they've had the proper amount of exercise and sunshine.

Summary: What if something more happened after Horn of Plenty... and then everything fell apart?

A/N: My muses are twisted and evil and took major inspiration from the opening scene of "And a Child Shall Lead," where Cait's practicing a scene for an acting coach we never hear mentioned after this episode. Her lines are as follows: "If he won't accept his responsibility, then he just doesn't exist for me anymore. And I don't care what you say; I'm gonna have this baby, and I'm gonna raise it alone." My muses started wondering what would happen if Cait _wasn't _actually practicing a scene... and then forced me to find a way to make it work... not that they had to try too hard, you understand.

A/N 2: I have not forgotten my other stories. The next chapters for "Running Partners" and "Wolfpup" are halfway done, and "From Nightmares to Dreams" and "Recognition" are getting there. (I haven't forgotten my _Green Rider_ tales either; I'm just a little stuck).

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Prologue:_

Cait put down the phone with a shaking hand, at once both numb and absolutely terrified. This... she had not been expecting. _ He doesn't even like to admit that anything happened after we got out of that hellhole Horn called a home. He called it a mistake, and because all control had been taken from him in that place, I let him have his way. I backed off, gave him his space, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do... and he never mentioned it again._

She stumbled toward a nearby chair and sank into it, lost in the memories of the night everything changed. She'd been worried about Hawke and gone to the cabin to check on him. What she'd found there – Hawke on the couch, staring at the fire, not really _seeing_ anything – had scared the hell out of her. She'd gone to him, then... laid a hand on his shoulder to try and bring him back to the world, back to _her._ When he looked at her, realizing she was there, it was with the same look he'd given her at the compound – shock, terror, and what she could almost swear was _love_ – but it was coupled with a control that was about to snap. Caitlin realized that Hawke's hold on _himself_ was less than a sure thing at the moment, and the last thing he wanted to do was lose control of himself now... when Horn and Angelica had already taken it from him once.

Cait didn't voice the offer, but she communicated it to him with every touch. Whatever he needed, she would give him, but the choice would always be his. His to say yes or no. His to move closer or back away. His to show her out the door... or ask her to stay.

And it was his choice to begin that first kiss.

His choice to lead her up the stairs to the loft... and hers to follow.

His choice to turn passion to possession, to control every aspect of that time in his sanctuary... and her choice to yield, willingly, to the culmination of everything she'd ever wanted.

And it was his choice the next morning to consider what had happened to be a mistake, to take her gift of love and comfort and pretend he'd never seen it, even though she saw the pain in his eyes when he told her they were better as friends... that what there had been between them could never happen again. At the time, she'd felt almost like he'd slapped her, but she still understood. She knew all he really wanted to do was hide away and lick his wounds... or pretend that the mess with Horn had never happened at all. In his mind, he still shot Dom. In his mind, he still back-handed Cait into a wall. She knew he couldn't handle any kind of new relationship until he figured out which of his actions were his own and which weren't, and because the last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain, she let it go... for the moment.

That didn't make it hurt any less. Nor did it lessen her temptation to introduce Hawke's backside to his living room floor, at any point in the six weeks since they'd had that conversation. Hawke... well, she'd always understood him, even when he liked to pretend otherwise, and there was only so far she'd let him push before she pushed back or told him to take a long walk off a short pier.

Cait just hoped that the coming few days wouldn't mark that point, because for all she knew Hawke... she _didn't_ know how he'd react when she told him she was pregnant.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 1

See Prologue for Rating, Disclaimer and Author's Notes

A/N: The line at the end of the chapter in _**bold italics**_ comes directly from the episode "And a Child Shall Lead," and was the inspiration for this story. This chapter also references events first mentioned in "Day of Jeopardy." While the episode itself takes place later in the third season than this, Hawke's relationship with Tess pre-dates the series, and will come up in his thoughts from time to time.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Chapter One:_

_'We need to talk' is never a good way to start a conversation, Cait._ Stringfellow Hawke looked at his fellow pilot, friend, and – he acknowledged only to himself – so much more, and knew that what she had to say was going to knock him completely off balance. He wondered if she figured she'd waited long enough for him to say something, and was going to go over That Night, despite him saying it was a mistake and best forgotten.

Even though it hadn't been.

Even though he thought about it constantly.

Even though he knew he'd hurt her by shutting her out, and the guilt had eaten away at him ever since. It had plenty of company. There was a long list of names attached to the other guilt... Mom, Dad, Kelly, Saint John, Tess, Gabrielle – all of them dead, save one, and she had left him anyway. Probably better for Tess that she had... and if he had to drive Cait away to avoid adding her to the list of the dead, he'd do it. He'd hate himself for it, and let _her_ hate him for it... but at least she'd be _alive_ to hate him.

Still, he couldn't deny her the chance to say whatever it was that needed saying.

Stepping back from the door to let her enter, he wondered why she'd come up to the cabin instead of talking to him at the hangar... before realizing he'd only dropped by Santini Air a handful of times over the past six weeks. "You didn't bring the Jet Ranger."

Cait shook her head, red hair blazing in the sunlight that was streaming in through the window. "Took my car up the old logging road, and hiked the rest of the way. Dom gave me the day off and thinks I'm relaxin' at home with a good book." Hawke, knowing it was a good hour's hike to the nearest section of that road – which had long since ceased to be on any map – took an even closer look at her. Cait's face was paler than usual, every freckle standing in sharp relief. There were shadows under her eyes that told him she hadn't been sleeping well, and he couldn't help but think that had something to do with him, which had less to do with any arrogance on his part than the simple fact that she had come all the way to the cabin to talk to him... and had hidden it from Dom.

"You didn't come up here just to chat, Cait." He hadn't intended his voice to sound as cold as it did, and mentally winced when she backed up a step. Then she stopped, her chin went up, and she glared at him, blue-green eyes spitting fire.

"No, _Stringfellow Hawke_, I did not 'come up here just to chat.' I came up here to see if you were ready to have a serious discussion about what happened between us after we left Horn's own little hellish paradise, or if you were still tryin' to pretend that night never happened. I came up here because that pretendin' isn't going to get you very far. In fact, that night's gonna be pretty darn hard to deny soon enough, not that I ever wanted to. You're going to be a father. I wish I could say for sure you'd be happy about that, but since you won't actually _talk_ to me, I don't have a clue."

Hawke was often a quiet man, but that was usually his choice. This time, he said nothing because the news was so unexpected, he couldn't even think of how to _begin_ to respond. Then, the terror hit. He'd already lost one child when Tess decided she didn't want their baby; how long before something took _this_ child from him, too? _I can't get attached. Hell, I'm **already** attached. I can't let anyone find out the baby's mine, that **Cait's** mine. They'll be targets if anyone knows._

When he looked back on it later, not even Hawke could believe the words that came out of his mouth. "How do I know the kid's mine?"

The silence that followed was like the eye of a hurricane, an eerie calm broken only by the sharp crack of Cait's hand leaving a lasting imprint on Hawke's face, and the slam of the cabin door as she stalked out of Hawke's home... and possibly his life. The image of her face in that final moment would stay with him until the day he died, the pain and tears in her eyes knifing through him, the knowledge that _he_ caused that pain acting as a brand on his soul... presuming he still had one.

_What the hell did I just do?_

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

Dominic Santini was at the hangar earlier than usual the next morning. He wasn't counting on Hawke showing up at all; his boy had been holed up at the cabin almost every day since that Horn mess, and Dominic had sent Cait home the day before. He wondered if she'd somehow managed to get the flu, given how run-down and just plain ill she'd been looking lately; though he would have thought any pesky bug would have run screaming from their stubborn Cait.

He opened his office door to a surprising sight – Cait, curled up in one of the guest chairs, hugging her knees to her chest... and looking so strangely vulnerable that Dom just wanted to hug her. This... was not like the Cait he knew. The Cait he knew could take on four red-neck cowboys without even flinching, could handle a plane full of terrified people and keep them calm and reassured, could walk straight into hell-on-earth just like she belonged there to rescue the man she loved. He was pretty darn sure she could have taken down Moffett, given half a chance. On the other hand, he was also glad she'd never gotten anywhere near that psycho.

None of this changed the fact that something was very definitely wrong with the woman Dom loved like a daughter.

"Cait?"

She lifted her head from her bent knees and just looked at him, no happy mask to hide the pain. The last time he'd seen that much pain in anybody's eyes, he'd been looking in the mirror... and he'd just buried his daughter.

"Caitlin, honey... what's going on?"

"I have to leave, Dom. I can't keep beating my head against that brick wall, anymore, not when there's more than me to be hurt by it. I know what he's thinking, and I know why he said it, but I can't forget it, and I'm not ready to forgive yet... don't know if I ever will be. And I'm not going to ask you to choose, so I'm just turning in my resignation, and I'll go. If he ever actually _wants_ to find me, I'm sure Michael can make it happen. If it were just me, I'd go back up to that damn cabin and just have it out with him until he realized how much of an _ass_ he's being, no matter how long it takes... but I'll be damned if I ever let him say that where..."

An ugly suspicion was starting to make its way into Dom's mind, and he wasn't liking it one little bit, no, sir. He'd been hoping something would spark between these two, and it seems like it did... but if he was reading this right, his boy went and threw up his walls again, just in time for Cait to run right into them. _But what does she mean there's more than her... oh, no, __**Santa Maria**__, tell me my boy didn't do anything that dumb._

He pulled another chair up so that he was sitting next to Cait, ran a fatherly hand through her hair and drew her closer so her head could rest on his shoulder. He could count on one hand the number of times she'd let him do this or initiated it herself... and all of them were times he'd been pretty sure she was missing her dad.

"Come on, Sweetheart, talk to old Dom, huh? I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong, and I'm not about to accept that resignation, so you can just give up on that idea right here and now."

"You won't want me to stay, Dom. Mom didn't even want me to come home when I told her; why would you want me to stay?" Cait's tone of voice worried him as much as the words. _She sounds so tired._

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, Cait? What's happened?"

"Horn happened. Horn and his _damn_ daughter taking all of Hawke's control and choice away from him. They made Hawke think he loved her, Dom, and Hawke and Angelica _acted_ on what they made him feel. The choice wasn't his. I knew that and he knew that, and I knew he wasn't dealing well, so I went up to the cabin to check on him. Found him staring into the fire. He hadn't even heard me come in, didn't realize I was there until I put a hand on his shoulder." That alone told Dom how far gone his boy had been, and if he hadn't still be in the FIRM clinic getting checked out, he probably would have gone right up there with Cait to make sure String was still in one piece. Meanwhile, part of his mind was busy going over what Cait had just told him about events in the Horn compound... and now, more than ever before, he understood _why_ Cait had said, "The daughter's _mine" _that day. Knowing what he knew now, he had no intention of getting in Cait's way should they ever have another run-in with Angelica Horn.

"He needed some way to get that control back, Dom, and I offered that to him. His choice _and _mine, the entire way. But I was an idiot. I never thought he'd want to ignore it, even though I know why he did. He still wasn't sure, even after, that it _was _entirely his choice. He _asked_ me to stay that night, damn it. I never pushed; he had the lead all the way, and I _let _him have it, because he needed to be in control of something." She was rambling a little now, and Dom wasn't about to interrupt her, even if it might be more than he really wanted to hear.

"And then he said it was a mistake. When I woke up in the morning, he was already out of the cabin, and I just waited there for him to come back. When he did, it was pretty darn obvious he wished I hadn't waited. It was a mistake and we were better off as friends, it would never happen again, and it would be best to act like it hadn't happened in the first place. I didn't damn well _want_ to act like it hadn't happened, but I figured then wasn't the time to push. Maybe if I'd pushed _then_, yesterday wouldn't have happened."

Dom kept running a hand over Cait's hair, trying to let her know – even if he couldn't say much at the moment – that she wasn't alone. "Yesterday?"

"Yeah. You sent me home since I wasn't looking too hot. I'd already been to see the doctor, though, and she called yesterday with some test results. I went up to the cabin to let Hawke know he's going to be a father." Dom closed his eyes at the confirmation of his suspicions... and at the pain in Cait's voice that let him know all had _not_ gone well. "He asked if it was his."

_Damn it, String. Pushing away everyone you care about is one thing, but where the hell do you get off hurting her like that? You'd have to be blind **not **to notice that she loves you._

"I know why he said it, Dom. I know that he's scared. But I'll be damned if I'm going to forget it all that easy... and saying it to _me_ is one thing, but I'm not going to run the risk he'll say it around our child. This baby is going to know that he's loved, even if it's not by _Stringfellow Hawke_, though, given his reaction, I suppose I should be grateful he didn't suggest getting rid of the baby altogether." Cait was shaking now, and Dom wasn't sure if it due to pain, rage, or some combination of both. Before he had a chance to say anything, Cait was speaking again.

"I need to get away, Dom. I can't depend on Hawke, and Mom's made it _abundantly_ clear that I'm not welcome back home. She wants grandchildren, but apparently only if their parents are married first. She said if I insisted on raising this baby without benefit of a husband, I'd better not be showing up on her doorstep. I have to get used to being on my own."

"Now, hold on, Cait!" Dom's voice was raised out of worry, and he stood only a second after she did, though it took him a bit longer to work out the kinks in his back. "Hawke will see reason, and realize that his feet don't taste all that good, even if I have to make him see it myself; you don't have to head anywhere on your own."

She looked at him then, closely, as she moved toward the door, eyes sparking with anger and pain, the anger seeming to grow with every passing second. "Yeah, Dom, I do. You're the only father he's had for a long time now, and the last thing I wanted to do was put you in the middle of this. I'm not making you choose. _**If he won't accept his responsibility, then he just doesn't exist for me anymore. And I don't care what you say; I'm gonna have this baby, and I'm gonna raise it alone**_."

Dom was left standing there with a look of blatant shock on his face as the door slammed behind her.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 2

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating, and Author's Notes.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Chapter Two:_

Michael had just started through the door to his office when his aide's phone began to ring. Laura picked up the handset and spoke briefly, before putting the caller on hold and looking to her boss.

"Mr. Santini calling for you, sir."

_Dominic never calls here if he can help it... certainly not **this** early._ "Go ahead and put him through to my phone, Laura. Now he's got me curious."

A moment later, Michael picked up his own ringing phone with what he knew was an overly cheerful, "Good morning, Dominic, and how are we today?"

"_**We** would be much better if Cait hadn't just walked out of the office heading Lord only knows where, and if I didn't need a word with my boy."_ The mixed worry and rage in the older man's voice instantly put the spy on alert.

"What happened?"

"_Short version – String and Cait got together after the Horn mess. String, in his usual way, decided he was death incarnate to anyone he cares about and told her it would be best if the two of them just pretended it never happened. Only, there's a little something that's going to make pretending kinda difficult, if you get me. Should be here in about seven months. When she went to the cabin to tell him, String actually asked if the kid was his."_

"Hell. I should head up to the cabin and look for a body, then... unless you'd rather have me go after Cait."

"_If you can **find** Cait, I'll go get her. Seemed to me like she was pretty keen to disappear for a little while, and she might not want to talk to anybody else right now... especially since her mama pretty much said if she set foot in Texas, she wouldn't even see the inside of her family's house. She's not taking that any better than the rest, and is just all set on doing things by herself, and not taking help from anybody. She's hurting, Michael, and not the type to want anyone to see it. I'll get Cait. You talk to String; you'll keep a calmer head than I will, anyway."_

Michael shook his head in momentary silence. Hawke's actions – while a good deal more cold-blooded than Michael had thought him capable of – were not entirely unexpected, but he hadn't thought that bubbly, happy Cait would have come from a family that would refuse to provide any support to her in this situation. To be fair, he knew she didn't get on well with her mother, and that her father had succumbed to cancer shortly after she joined the Texas Highway Patrol, but he hadn't thought Cait's mother would turn her back entirely. At this point, it sounded as though Cait would get the door slammed in her face if she even _thought_ about heading back to Texas.

"Alright, Dominic. Laura and Sam will work on finding Cait and give you a call when they know where she is. I'll go beard the lion in his den. If you don't hear back from me by the end of the day, feel free to presume he shot me and got Tet to hide the body."

Dom's only response before he hung up the phone was a sound that Michael took to be a half-chuckle, half-sob. He had no intentions of ever mentioning that he'd heard it to the old Italian. The cause was sufficient; Dom was more or less seeing his family fall to pieces around him. The woman he quite obviously loved as a daughter was hurting _because_ of the man he loved as a son, and that was enough to rip at anybody; even a spy with a reputation for bleeding ice-water knew that much.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

Hawke heard the FIRM helicopter before he saw it, but that was nothing unusual. He was mentally cursing, since he didn't want to deal with Michael today... and if he had a mission for Airwolf, Hawke suspected they might be short a crew member. _And she's got every right to be angry – __**beyond **__angry – at me. Staying away is one thing, but I didn't have any reason to be __**cruel**__. _He'd stayed on the couch all night, just staring into the fire, and damning himself for a fool. He should have gone after her the instant she stalked out the door. More to the point, he shouldn't have stuck his foot in his mouth in the first place... and he didn't have the slightest idea how to apologize for what he'd done... and _not_ done.

But he was pretty darn sure Michael's presence wouldn't be any help at all.

Hawke waited, knowing the other man would be through the door soon enough, and perversely grateful that he'd come – more or less – alone. Michael would have an aide with him, but it was even odds as to whether she'd come in or stay with the helo. Still, better an aide than Dom. He had a hunch – or at least a hope – that Cait had gone back to Santini Air and talked with their old friend, and knew he'd be hearing about it later, and deserved everything Dom would dish out to him.

The first words out of Michael's mouth let him know that this visit had nothing to do with a mission, and everything to do with Cait. "Honestly, Stringfellow, sometimes I wonder if your mother dropped you on your head when you were an infant."

"What the Hell, Michael?" Hawke knew his voice held more than a hint of shock, but Michael didn't often succeed in surprising him. He stood and glared at the other man, anger beginning to mix with the guilt. _ I don't remember asking for Archangel's opinion on this mess... or even __**telling **__him about it._

"You haven't the slightest idea what you've done, do you?"

If Hawke had to find a word to describe the look on Michael's face, he would say it bordered on pity... with a hint of outright _fear_. _What am I missing?_

"Michael, I'm not in the mood for riddles, right now."

"Good." The spy was glaring at Hawke now, his gaze so cold that the pilot _almost _backed up a step. "I'm not here to feed you a riddle. I'm here to ask you if you're damn well satisfied with yourself. You wanted Cait to leave; she has. The problem is, no one knows where she's gone. She turned up at the hangar this morning to have a chat with Dom, and then left, saying she'd raise the baby on her own. She's not at her house. She _won't _be going to Texas, as I'm led to believe Cait's mother would slam the front door in her face if she tried. I've set Laura and Sam to trying to locate her, while keeping any _hint_ of the search from the Committee."

Hawke sank back to the comfort of the couch, confusion beginning to replace the near-rage at Michael's high-handed attitude. "Why would the Committee care?"

Michael let loose an exasperated sigh, and leaned up against the bar. "Let me introduce you to some basic, Committee-style mathematics, Stringfellow. There are three – and _only_ three – living pilots currently rated to fly Airwolf, and at the moment, the Committee _thinks_ they know the locations of all of them. Each pilot has in his – or her – head a truly disturbing amount of classified and otherwise restricted data, in addition to the knowledge of how to fly the single most advanced helicopter on the planet. There are a large number of people, corporations, organizations and _countries_ out there that would greatly desire this information and are highly unlikely to take 'no' – or, in Caitlin's case, something a lot more colorful – for an answer, and their method of questioning would leave much to be desired. The Committee won't like the odds. They will, without hesitation, set Zebra Squad on Cait if they think there's even a _chance _a hostile force would get to her first. _Now_ do you understand, Hawke? She's in a hell of a lot more danger _away _from you than she's _ever_ been while at your side."

Hawke suddenly felt his stomach drop to the floor, but in an abstract way, considered it a valid reaction to Archangel's verbal bludgeoning. _Cait._ In the next split-second, he was seeing a thousand different ways she and their child could die, his family vanishing in less time than it took to blink... and this time, the blame really _would_ belong to him. He'd always known – even though his heart never believed it – that there was nothing he could have done to save his parents. He'd always known that the accident that killed Kelly had been the fault of the drunk driver who'd run the stop sign, and there'd been no way to avoid him. He'd always known that if he had set the helicopter down to try and save Saint John, all the men on the ropes – depending on him to get them to safety – would have been captured. And in the end, he'd known that there was nothing he could have said to Tess that would have convinced her to have their baby. No matter how much guilt he wanted to hang on to solely for managing to _survive_, he knew that none of those things had been his fault.

_But, Cait..._

_He_ had been the one who'd acted as though what had grown between them meant nothing. _He_ had been the one to ignore the tears she'd shed in Horn's compound, and the tears in her eyes when she'd agreed – temporarily – to pretend the night that followed had never happened. _He _had been the one to hurt her and drive her away, to deliberately attempt to make her hate him. If anything happened to her because he was too much of a coward to accept that she loved him and he most _definitely _returned those feelings, then the blame for that would lie squarely at his own feet.

_Not gonna happen._

TBC...


	4. Chapter 3

See Prologue for Rating, Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

A/N 2: The muses wouldn't let me sleep until I finished this, stubborn little things that they are.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Chapter Three:_

Several hours later, another woman hung up a phone after a rather... enlightening conversation. _Stringfellow Hawke is an unmitigated __**ass**__ who's obviously taken one too many blows to the head. Michael has his moments, but he's never done anything that crass. Regardless, the fact remains... we have to find Cait, ideally __**before**__ the Committee finds out about it and decides to drastically shorten her life expectancy. Cait would have no way of knowing the Committee's default reaction; even after the missions in Airwolf, her exposure to that bunch of sharks has been limited. But __**Hawke**__ should have known what they'd do if an Airwolf-rated pilot goes missing. For Pete's sake, __**he**__ was the one sent to deal with the 'missing' pilots last time, and he __**dealt**__ with them more than permanently enough to suit the Committee. He should have realized that where Airwolf's concerned, they won't draw any distinction between Moffett and Cait. Inasmuch as they care, a security risk is a security risk is a security risk, and all are to be handled the same way – with extreme prejudice._

Alright, so... she knew how _she_ felt about it. How _Cait_ felt about it would be obvious, but complicated. _She's not headed back to Texas, didn't stop back at her house, isn't hiding at the hangar, and wouldn't go up to the cabin right now unless Hawke or Michael sedated her, tied her up, and dragged her back there himself. So where would she go?_

Something came to mind that Cait had told her a while back, having mentioned that Dom was the only other one who knew. Cait's greatest comforts, particularly in light of some of the things she saw while on Airwolf missions, were faith, belief, and trust. Faith – likely a product of her Irish-Catholic upbringing – in a Being higher than herself, belief that she was doing the right thing, and trust in the two rather extraordinary men with whom she faced life and death situations on a rather routine basis. Cait... would go to church.

It took Marella only seconds to grab her keys, purse and sidearm and slip out the door.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Now what? If I go home, it's only to pack a bag. Nothing short of divine intervention's going to get me back up to Hawke's place at the moment. I know Dom's concerned and I hate makin' him worry, but if he knows where to find me, he'll be torn between keepin' it a secret and tellin' Hawke... and I don't want to see him right now. I don't want to see **anybody** right now. God, how am I gonna manage this mess?_ Cait sat in a back pew in the smallest Catholic church in the area, head bowed. The church was familiar, at least, being the one that she attended every Sunday she was in town. It was the circumstances surrounding today's visit that were cause for concern, and they weren't something she felt ready to share with any more people just yet. For what was truly the first time in her life, Caitlin O'Shannessy was entirely unsure of herself.

_I'm not sure where to go from here, Little One. Dom would love nothin' more than to be a grandpa, I think, and I want you more than anything. I just never thought I'd be doin' this on my own, and I have to admit, I don't know how good a job I'll do at bein' your mama. Your daddy's not the only one runnin' scared right now, but there are some things that won't change no matter how frightened I am. I may not be certain of a whole lot, but I do know I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you... not even your daddy... or my mom. How do I explain your grandma, kiddo? She's scared, too, I suppose, but not of losin' the people she loves, like Hawke is. No, she's scared of what people will think if her youngest comes home with a baby and no husband, so scared of what they'll say, she can't see what she's giving up. Dad, now, that wouldn't have bothered him any. "Come home, Catie-girl." That's what he would have said... after I talked him out of having a 'chat' with your daddy, that is. I'll tell you a secret, Little One. Mamas try to fix all the hurts, all the scrapes their kids get, and I'll be no different with you, I know... but mamas are people, too, and we aren't always so good at taking care of our own hurts. Your granddad not being here... that's an awful **big** hurt. Your daddy not being around is just as big a one. I'll figure it out, though. Even if it's just you and me, we'll do fine. I'll make sure of that._

Cait felt the sting of tears in her eyes and struggled to make sure they wouldn't fall, knowing if she started crying now, she wouldn't be able to stop. _I can't afford to be weak or __**appear**__ weak right now. I've a lot to do, and not much time to do it in if I want to avoid Hawke until he gets his head screwed back on straight... might be a long wait. It still leaves me at square one; what's my next step?_

She saw a flash of white off to one side and lifted her head, both relieved and wary of the 'angel' who slipped into the pew next to her. "I was lookin' for _solitude_ when I came here, Marella." Out of concern for the few others who were also praying in the church, Cait kept her voice low.

Archangel's most trusted aide followed suit and kept her own voice barely higher than a whisper. "Just me, Cait... I haven't called in yet to tell anyone I've found you."

"And you're not goin' to."

"I _have_ to, Cait. You have no idea what cost my silence would exact... and _I_ wouldn't be the one paying the price."

Cait shook her head. None of this was making sense. "What are you talking about, Marella?"

"Not here, Cait. This conversation can't happen here. Come back to my place." Cait, though admittedly preoccupied, couldn't possibly miss the worried look in Marella's eyes, and knew the situation _had_ to be serious for the other woman's emotions to be visible to anyone else.

She stood... a little too quickly, she realized, as the inside of the church started to move like she was on a spooked horse. Thankfully, Marella's quick move to lend a supporting hand kept Cait from falling on her face... or decorating the church floor with her breakfast. When the building stopped moving, she took a steadying breath, and walked with the white-garbed spy out to her car. She stared in something approaching shock as Marella stopped next to a _silver_ Corvette.

"Silver, Marella?"

"It's my personal car, Cait, not one I borrowed from work. When I'm off the clock – if I'm _ever_ off the clock – I have a lot more leeway in color scheme; you've seen that at my apartment. The silver appealed to me."

Cait slipped into the passenger seat, relaxing for a moment on the sun-warmed leather. "The Firm must pay better than I thought."

"Well enough," Marella answered with a grin, "especially when part of the pay is use to play the stock market... with a careful hand, at least. I don't need much, and never have, but every now and then I like a little something extra, just for myself. This car was a rare indulgence." Cait could almost swear she saw a glint of mischief in the other woman's eyes, and wondered if Marella had done some discreet testing of her own with this car to see for herself just how fast it was. Something else in Marella's tone of voice also made Cait think there was a bit more to how Marella got the car than she was saying... but that was a thought she'd keep for later.

In less than ten minutes, Marella pulled into the underground parking garage of a rather upscale apartment building, one not all that far from Cait's own house. This was no surprise to Cait, though; she may not have seen the Corvette before, but she'd been a frequent guest to Marella's home and knew it almost as well as her own. The favor had been returned, as well, with Marella being a guest at her house on more than a few occasions... but the operative had always arrived in a 'business' car, the simple, white sedan routinely driven by Archangel's people.

The familiar, private settings seemed to drain the last of Cait's strength, and she sank onto Marella's exceedingly comfortable leather couch, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for days. One last worry, though, kept the exhaustion at bay. "Don't tell them, Marella. Hawke will realize he's been an ass... eventually, but I really don't want to see him right now, and Michael would tell him. As for Dom, well... I don't want him caught in the middle, and he can't feel pressured to tell what he doesn't know."

"I _have_ to tell Michael, Cait, before the Committee knows you've left Santini Air. _He_, at least, has to know where you are and that you're okay, so that he can assure those sharks that you haven't gone missing. I promise you that he won't tell anyone else where you are, just that you're taking some time off and he's well aware of your location."

Cait looked over at the other woman, still confused, but unable to mistake the concern in Marella's eyes for anything else. "Why would the Committee give a damn if I've left Santini Air?" Even voicing the question made Cait feel like she was making that painful choice all over again, but that pain was nothing compared to her shock and near-terror at Marella's answer.

"Cait, you're an Airwolf-rated pilot, and the Committee has only _one _response when an Airwolf-rated pilot pulls an unauthorized disappearing act. Whether that pilot is you or Moffett would make no difference to them, and they sure as hell wouldn't care that you're pregnant. My only hope of keeping you and your baby in the land of the living is to tell Michael _precisely_ where you are and make sure he _always_ knows. Frankly, I could give a rat's ass whether you ever talk to Stingfellow Hawke again, but I'll be damned if I let you die because he was an idiot and Committee's full of desk-jockeys who've forgotten that their operatives – and contractors – are still human beings."

TBC...


	5. Chapter 4

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating, and Author's Notes.

A/N 2: Apparently, the muses really like this one at the moment, and are willing to let me work on it. I'm hoping the trend continues.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

_Chapter Four:_

It was nearly time for dinner when Michael's phone rang again... his direct line, this time. He'd left Stringfellow up at the cabin some hours before, working through his own thoughts. It had taken more than a little fast talking to get Hawke to see reason, rather than storm off and cause massive property damage in his search for Cait.

"_If you tear off out of here and turn over every rock in L.A. to find some sign of her, the Committee will find out that something's wrong **sooner** rather than later, Hawke. Let my people do their jobs. **They** will find Cait, **they** will do so quietly, and then they will call me, and I'll let you know that she is okay. Hell, if it'll make you feel better, I'll even get Marella in on the search. She and Cait are friends and have been for a while; she might at least have an idea where Cait's gone."_

"_You haven't brought her in, yet?"_

"_For Pete's sake, Hawke, she's finishing up her residency. She barely gets four hours of sleep a night as it is, except for the rare day when she's **not **working or on-call. I had no intention of bringing Marella into this any more than necessary. Truth be told, though, I should have called her first; she won't be happy to find out I waited."_

"_Good, then we're both in the doghouse."_

"_You're a pessimistic bastard, Hawke... just thought you should know."_

_He'd left then, after he'd been certain Hawke wouldn't do anything stupid, and called Marella. He'd filled her in on everything Dom had told him that morning, and smiled when she slipped a very pointed comment into the conversation as to his level of intelligence, given that he hadn't called her first._

Still chuckling at the memory of the earlier conversation – Marella was the only one of his aides who'd ever sassed him – he picked up the ringing phone. The familiar voice on the other end, in combination with the magical words, "I found her," made him breathe a sigh of relief.

"How is she?"

"_Physically, she's as well as can be expected. She's stressed, tired, suffering from morning sickness, and skipped lunch entirely today while she was thinking about the current situation, but I took care of that. Mentally and emotionally, she's a good deal worse. The depths to which the Committee would sink to safeguard Firm secrets was... something of a rude awakening to her, but Cait's not afraid for **herself**. She's afraid for her baby, she's afraid of putting Dominic in a position where he'd have to choose between her and Hawke... and she's afraid for **Hawke**, not that he deserves it. She still loves him... but that won't stop her from kicking his ass if he shows up before she wants to deal with him. Won't stop me from selling tickets, either."_

Michael grinned at that thought, but kept his response simple. "I'll call off the search and let the remaining two musketeers know that their third is safe and well, though it won't be an easy task to convince them that she doesn't want to talk right now. Does she know about this call?"

"_She agreed that you needed to be informed once she knew what the Committee's response would be if she chose to go to ground. As you've already surmised, she doesn't want Dom or Hawke to know where she is, yet. As far as the Committee's concerned, she's on vacation or medical leave, and is in routine contact with us. Cait didn't particularly care what vacation locale was selected for her, but said it might be best to avoid saying that she headed back to Texas. She told me about the conversation with her mother. Do you think maybe we could give Mrs. O'Shannessy's address to Dom and let the two of them have a **chat**... or should we leave well-enough alone for now?"_

"No, I think the farther Mother Hen Santini is from Cait's mom, the quieter the next few weeks will be. Cait's at your place, isn't she?"

"_Sleeping peacefully in my guest room. It might make dinners a little interesting, Michael, but not impossible. Speaking of... since I called in sick today to look for Cait, and I've got tomorrow off, might I expect you?"_

"You may... I'll even bring the food. What do you think Cait's stomach can handle right now?"

"_Nothing spicy. She likes Chinese. I think she'd be okay with egg-drop soup, maybe beef and broccoli. If nothing else, they both re-heat well, so if she doesn't finish them tonight, they'll do for lunch tomorrow."_

"There goes all hope of keeping this entirely to ourselves." All the same, Michael wasn't worried about his relationship with Marella becoming common knowledge. Cait was quite the conversationalist, but never revealed anything she shouldn't.

"_I'm sure we'll manage." _With Marella's last bit of teasing ringing in his ears, Michael disconnected the call and set about placing another one... to Santini Air.

_Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf~~~Airwolf_

Dom had been pacing around the hangar all day, doing maintenance checks on his helicopters, fixing up the Stearman, and _waiting_. Waiting for String to walk through the door, waiting for Archangel to walk through the door, _hoping _that _Cait_ would walk through the door. Heck, he'd be happy with a phone call, so long as someone would tell him what was going on. He'd already buried one daughter, and didn't know if he had the heart to watch another one walk away, especially because of something that his boy had done.

_Dammit, String, **why** do you have to drive the people away that you should be holding closest to you? And why the hell don't you ever stop to **think** about what it is that you're doing before you open your mouth? Cait's been there through thick and thin for the both of us, but the minute she needs help that the Lady's guns can't provide, you turn your back on her. I thought I raised you better than that. Heaven knows, if it was Sally or Jo you'd treated like that, I would flatten you and you wouldn't expect any different of me. If it had been anybody **else** who'd done that to Cait, you'd be first in line to kill the bastard. Hell, I'm only staying here because I'm hoping Cait will come back, and being here for Cait is more important than kicking your stubborn butt._

Dom, alone out of all Airwolf's crew-members, had realized what the Committee's likely course of action would be if no one could find Cait, and he knew that thought had never occurred to the boy he'd raised. No, Hawke would never think that Cait might be safer _with _him than she would be _away_ from him. Meanwhile, the older pilot had been haunted by the thought all day, but had deliberately _avoided_ calling Archangel to see if he'd found out anything. The last thing he wanted to do was alert the Committee through his own impatience. No way in Hell was he burying another one of his kids. If the Committee wanted to send Zebra Squad after Cait and her baby, they'd damn well have to go through him first.

The ringing phone was a surprise; as far as _work_ was concerned, the day had been quiet. He got to it quickly, hoping for news... _any_ news, and for once, was grateful to hear Michael's voice. The spy's first words – a quiet "She's okay" – prompted a wave of relief so strong that Dom had to grab for a chair or risk hitting the floor. Once he was seated, he closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

"_I talked with Stringfellow and drove a few points home, I think. At least I didn't end up taking a trip over the bar, this time, though I'm fairly certain he thought of it. He honestly hadn't thought the Committee would do anything if she went missing."_

"I figured that one out for myself, Michael; String just _doesn't think_ – period – when it comes to the important stuff, he's so convinced that he's under some kind of curse. Meanwhile, I've been sitting, standing, pacing the whole darn day, because I can pretty well bet I know what they'd do. Heck, if they'd call out Zebra Squad on _you_, they wouldn't think twice about setting them on Cait."

"_At least **someone **on the crew realized it; Cait didn't. To be fair, though, she's had a lot less experience with that group of... interesting personalities. I'm calling that a good thing."_

"For once, I agree with you. Where is she, Michael?"

"_I can't tell you, Dom. I wish I could, but I can't; she doesn't want to put you in a spot where you'd have to choose between her and Hawke, and she **really** doesn't want to see him right now. Hell, the 'angel' who found her had to do a fast bit of talking to convince her that it was okay for **me** to know where she was, and she agreed to that only after a very blunt discussion regarding the soul-less abyss that is the Committee. I'm told it was a rather rude awakening. I can assure you that she's safe, and that as far as the Committee's concerned – if anyone asks – she's either on vacation or medical leave. I'm not sure which is the better fit, yet. She **is** alright, Dominic; I promise you that."_

"Not good enough, Michael; I need to see her, same as I would've needed to see Sally if this had happened to her. And I'm not saying a word to String about where Cait is or isn't until he gets his head screwed on straight, and stops destroying everything good in his life just so someone or something else can't do it first. But Cait's wanting to handle everything alone, and I'm not about to let that happen, either, anymore than I'd let Zebra Squad touch so much as a hair on her head. She's family just as much as String is, Michael. Now String, he needs to _think_ about the damage he's done by pushing her away, and it's best for the both of us if he does that on his own; I won't be quite so tempted to _flatten_ him, that way. Being alone is the last thing _Cait_ needs, though, and I'm not letting you or anybody else keep me from being there when she needs me."

"_It's **Cait** that set the conditions, Dominic, and I'm not about to change them without her approval; she's every bit as dangerous as one of my people when she's ticked off, and you know it. I'll talk with her and try to change her mind. It's the best I can do for now. In the meantime, close up the place for a while. Get some dinner, get some sleep. You're going to need every bit of strength you can muster – and more than a little **luck** – to deal with your two kids."_

TBC...


End file.
